Isolation Photography

Covid 19 Pandemic. Is the glass half empty or half full?

Let's face it: Covid 19 and the resultant isolation safety measures have put a damper on photography for a lot of people. Professionals in most genres were essentially put out of work within very short order. I went from having half a dozen shows to shoot in March and April to none.

Street photography has been reduced to pretty much shooting...streets. Streets empty of people except for a few on essential business or out for a walk.

No sports photography. Portrait sessions, maybe, if protocols are kept. Weddings? Nope. Fashion and commercial photography? Again a maybe. Fine art and conceptual photographers can keep working since they often work in relative isolation anyway. Photojournalists are keeping busy covering news and press conferences related to the pandemic.I'd h

This is actually a golden opportunity for photography. Now is the time to push ourselves to find subjects we wouldn't normally think of capturing. Things around the house or yard. Get started with astrophotography. Even get into self portraits. Being isolated doesn't mean creativity must stop. It's a chance to hone a skill called "seeing photographically".

What that means is to look at the world with a focus on light, shadow, form, texture and color. Try to visualize how a subject will look with the various fields of view that different focal lengths offer. The image above is an example. I have skylights in my kitchen and this is the time of year when the sun provides some really sweet light against a certain section of the wall. The tumbler is one of a couple I bought to hold water for watercolors. Light. Form. A concept. A nice photo resulted.No masterpiece, but at least it kept my busy making images, and also has provided the foundation for further exploration of the subject.

Of course, you may already be doing this. Or you may already be going back through old photos to see if any invite you to re-edit them or polish up ones you overlooked before. Take some online classes or watch videos about photography.(I highly recommend "The Art of Photography" by Ted Forbes. It's a refreshing break from all the gear review and "Youtube Diva" videos about photography.

With a positive attitude and the right approach, you can come out of this pandemic a better photographer than when is started.

All In a Name?

Dennis Hopper in "Apocalypse Now".

“Photographer”

The name elicits different visions within people's minds. It might be a sports photographer with a big, white lens on the sidelines of a sporting event. It might be a photojournalist in a war-torn city. It might be a fashion photographer working with expensive models. It may be closer to home for most people, such as a wedding or portrait photographer. In any case, there is an assumption the title applies to someone who is earning a living as a photographer.

“I'm a photographer”.

This phrase evokes similar thoughts. People naturally assume that someone uttering those words somehow falls into the category of a person who really knows what they are doing when it comes to using a camera and producing eye-catching photos. The reality is different, however.

Many people I encounter who call themselves photographers really do so not because they work as a professional, or even because they have a notable level of skill. It's because they have a hobby-photography-that they support with expensive and sophisticated equipment. One day they are going around capturing photos with a smartphone or inexpensive point and shoot, just like a lot of other people. The next day they become a photographer because they bought a DSLR or MILC with a couple of lenses.

When it comes to other hobbies/arts/crafts that involve equipment, photography is an odd phenomenon. Someone can buy a guitar and amplifier that costs just as much, if not considerably more, than a camera kit, but won't so readily call themselves a “Guitarist”. Perhaps that's because most people can easily tell whether a person qualifies as a “Guitarist” (someone with above average skill who possibly earns a living playing guitar). A person who owns a $10,000 Taylor guitar, but stumbles through the opening of “Stairway to Heaven” will quickly convince others they're just own a really nice guitar and know how to play it (sort of), but they are not a “Guitarist”.

Why is it then, that people so easily refer to themselves as photographers simply because they own good gear and take a lot of photographs?

I see several reasons.

One is that people who don't own expensive camera gear seem to assume that someone walking around with a big, full frame DSLR with a big lens and a camera bag must be, if not a professional, then someone with above average skill. Unfortunately expensive gear doesn't correlate to skill in photography (even though many people with expensive gear think that's the case). I regularly see photos on photography forums that could just as well have been taken with a smartphone-and are less engaging than many smartphone photos.

Another reason is that most cameras today make if pretty easy to create technically good images. Many of those images have characteristics which are difficult, or even impossible, to achieve with a smartphone or cheap point and shoot cameras. Examples are shallow depth of field/bokeh (though some smartphones can now simulate this through computational photography); frozen action through high shutter speeds; very wide angle or long telephoto images; and macro images. Low light photography is a situation in which smartphones and cheaper cameras continue to fall short of more expensive gear as well.

The result is something like this: Stephanie decides she wants to “get serious” about photography and buys a Sony A7Riii and a couple of zoom lenses, as well as a 50mm f1.8 prime “for the creamy bokeh”. She makes essentially the same types of photos she's been making with her iPhone-her cat, her kids, her garden-but now they have aspects that were lacking on her iPhone images such as higher resolution, shallower depth of field, and close in views thanks to the 70-200 zoom she bought.

All her friends are wowed by her photos because they look better than what they take with their phones and point and shoots, and tell Stephanie she should become a professional. That's when she started calling herself a photographer.

She convinces a coworker to let her shoot his upcoming wedding. After all, she's a photographer with “professional gear”. She's never shot a wedding before, but how hard can it be?

Hard enough that real professional wedding photographers have spent years honing their craft.

She decides to only charge her coworker $200 (as a favor). Since that's a tenth of what the established wedding photographers in town charge, he jumps at the offer. After all, Stephanie is a photographer with really nice photos taken with her really nice camera.

Stephanie shows up at the wedding with just her camera and lenses. Because that's the only gear she has. She wanders around the chapel, and then the reception hall, taking photos the same way she usually does, just sort of pointing her camera at what she likes and pressing the shutter. At the close of the reception she tells the bride and groom she has “a couple of hundred really good ones” and promises to send them a CD with all of the images in a couple of days.

The newlyweds return from their honeymoon to find the promised CD waiting with their mail. They eagerly open the envelope and pop the CD into their computer. The images that appear are vibrant, mostly, except for the underexposed ones. And that one they would have loved to make a print of is kind of blurry. Why are the heads cut off of so many close ups, and the legs cut off awkwardly on the group shots? There are no photos of the groom's parents, and the ones of the bride's parents are just of them sitting at the table during the reception. And what is with the ceremony photos being so yellow and dark looking...?

The couple now wishes they'd paid the $2000 for a real photographer, because Stephanie really isn't one.

This brings up the third reason why people so readily call themselves photographers just by virtue of the gear they own: lack of knowledge of what truly good photos look like. I'm not talking about the technical aspect. A monkey can literally take technically good photos with modern gear. I'm talking about having the knowledge of photography as a craft, and art, to both know how to capture photos under various conditions as well as make sure those photos are aesthetically pleasing and emotionally engaging.

In the minds of most people, the label “photographer” implies an ability to produce images that “non-photographers” seldom produce. The gear doesn't do this: it only enhances the ability of the photographer. I refer to people who know how to use expensive camera gear effectively, but produce images that aesthetically are no better than what they'd get with a smartphone “camera operators”. That's all they are really doing, just operating a camera.

Of course, many people will argue with me about this (and do) because they look at their high resolution, ultra-sharp, perfectly exposed photos of their cat with creamy bokeh and declare that such images prove they deserve the title “photographer”. I no longer try to argue with such people. It's not worth the agitation and besides: the expensive gear they buy helps camera companies stay in business and produce the sort of gear that “real photographers” use.

Arts Funding and the Economy

What does this photo of up and coming singer Jocelyn Arndt have to do with the conomy? She spends money she makes as a singer. She has band members who spend money they make as musicians. She's talented enough that one day she be making and spending even more money, and generating jobs and revenue for others.

The current administration's excuse for cutting funding to the arts is to save money. I'm not going to talk about how ludicrous this is in light of the small amount of funding goes towards the arts. Only someone who is corrupt or willfully ignorant would think that the approximately $152 million for the National Endowment for the Arts is having a major impact on the deficit. (By comparison Trump's golf trips so far have cost over $122 million.)

Of course, local governments have been cutting funding to the arts in the schools long before Trump took office. The idea is that if a school must make a choice between programs designed to help students do better on their various tests and arts funding is well-ingrained in the minds of school officials, in favor of the testing (often, money for athletic programs is the left of the table). However, studies have shown that students involved in arts programs, especially music, do better in other subjects.

My personal experience bears that out, as my fellow band, orchestra and chorale members when I was growing up made up the bulk of students on the honors list. Yes, there is something behind the brainy “band geek” persona.

I think the persona creative/arts people project is part of the reason why some non-artists can be so eager to cut funding for the arts. Because creative types tend to also be more liberal, more questioning of authority, and more apt to speak out as activists against social issues and injustice (songs can be especially powerful influencers of public thought) those in power want to squelch potential protest and public opposition by controlling the development of artists, musicians, poets, writers, dancers, actors et al. I see this as the main reason Trump is doing what he does to strip the federal budget of any arts funding as well has having Education Secretary Nancy Devos make things tough for arts education.

What I want to discuss, though, is the potential impact lack of adequate funding for the arts-music in particular-can have on the economy as a whole. The music industry alone generated over $9.8 billion in 2018, with a third straight year of double-digit growth (other industries wish they could match growth like that). Again, that's just the music industry: movies, TV, and internet productions, including sites such as YouTube contribute ten times that amount. I didn't even research figures on visual art, dance and written work.

Needless to say, creative people generate a lot of money for the U.S. economy. They create a lot of jobs. In addition to the direct revenue, billions more is spent on the devices used to generate, record and replay music, video and still images and written word. Tens of millions of people are employed either directly or by manufacturing and distributing materials and devices used in creative arts.

Here's a scenario to consider:

DaNika always had a sweet singing voice. By the time she was ten she was giving serious thought to becoming a professional singer. In fifth grade her school offered piano lessons, so since her parents could afford them on their own, she signed up. She struggled a bit, but she stuck with it.

When she got to middle school, she immediately joined the choir. She was a good singer already, but once exposed to the discipline of choir, and the coaching her instructor provided, she truly blossomed. She was able to continue her piano lessons, as well as vocal coaching, with her choir instructor, who taught her for a nominal fee. She was earning enough as a music teacher that teaching piano was as much about helping her students as making extra money.

DaNika was so good that by the time she was sixteen, she was getting gigs on the weekend, saving up money for college. By the time she graduated, she had saved enough for her first two years of music school. But she also earned a full scholarship due to her talent, and the fact that the discipline she learned studying music contributed to her 4.0 grade point average.

She continued to play gigs while in college. She landed a tour gig as the opener for a national level act during the summer after her sophomore year. She made more on that seen week tour than her mother made per year in her part time retail job. (Her father worked full time in a factory.) The summer after her junior year, she toured on her own. That got the attention of a record label. She dropped out of college to sign with them.

Fast forward 10 years and DaNika is a Grammy award-winning performer. She's had 3 platinum and 8 gold records. She's bought not only a great house for herself, but for her parents. Her mother was able to stop working part time to pursue her own desire to paint. Her father is planning on retiring early. Not only did she put her younger brothers through college (one is studying to become a physician), she set up a scholarship fund for students at her old high school.

DaNika's own production company employs twenty people and grosses $25 million per year. When on tour, she hires a road production crew of ten people. At each appearance, local people get work as marketing, vendors, security maintenance etc. Many venues DaNika appears at use the high revenue from her shows to help support less profitable shows by local performers.

Of course, production of her albums and merchandise is another source of jobs and revenue not only directly but in contributing to the various wholesalers and retailers who sell her music and merchandise.

When her father retired, she set up a scholarship fund for children of workers at the factory where her dad had worked.

Economically, DaNika does a lot for the economy as part of a huge industry. Yet even less famous performers contribute in much the same way.

In an alternate history, DaNika wasn't able to start piano lessons because of funding cuts to her school. There was no middle school choir program. When she got to high school, the choir was an extracurricular program that met only once a week with an itinerant instructor. She still wanted to become a professional singer, but didn't quite have the training, or the discipline, to really pursue it. She didn't qualify for any scholarships for college because her grades were not quite good enough.

When DaNika graduated high school she took a job at the department store where her mother worked. She managed to snag the occasional Saturday gig playing a wedding or local club, but felt she wasn't going anywhere as a musician. Then a chance came along with a local audition for

“America's God Talent”. She did well and made it to the next round judged by the celebrity panel. She did her very best at that audition, but was told that she needed to take voice lessons and develop more polish before she could move to the next round. Come back later.

Ten years later DaNika a department manager at the store. Her brothers never made it to college. Her mother still works part time at the same store, and hasn't touched a paint brush in years. DaNika's eight year old daughter has a sweet singing voice...

Artistic people can generate revenue and help provide jobs. Period.

Wasting Megapixels?

Sony recently dropped a bombshell on the camera industry with the announcement of the Sony A7R Mark IV. The “full frame” sensor has 61 megapixels. Five years ago, that many pixels would only be found on medium format sensors. Naturally, all the camera media, and the denizens of various online groups, are abuzz about the camera.

Some of the buzz I've seen doesn't dwell on the megapixel count so much as on the improvements in auto focus and ergonomics. These are two factors I think are far more important than upping the pixel count from 42MP found in the Sony A7R MkIII. In fact, for most people, and most display applications, 61MP is a big waste. It's not just overkill, it's nuclear warfare overkill.

Huh?

Isn't the axiom in photography that sharper (higher resolution) is always better, and this camera offers the highest resolution of any full frame camera to date?

(Note: discussing resolution verses sharpness is fodder for a different article.)

This axiom is true, sort of: it ultimately depends on how the final image is viewed. The rub is that images are viewed on browsers that don't have the same resolution as the original image. Worse, they are most often viewed online, in browsers that are emphasize fast delivery of content over quality. Then there's the fact that many sites where people upload their photos compress the files.

It's like this:

Ed the Enthusiast Photographer happily shells out $3500 for the A7R Mk3. He downloads his first group of photos (RAW of course) into his computer and opens up his preferred editor. That's where things start to get into the overkill range. Ed has a sweet looking 4K monitor, but it's still only 4096x2160 pixels. That's less than half the 9504x6336 image size the A7R MkIV produces at its highest resolution. Where is all that extra detail going?

No problem for Ed: he just zooms in to 100% to see all the glorious detail his new camera is capturing. (At last he can see just how soft the corners are when he shoots his favorite lens wide open!) Ed completes his editing, saves as a .JPEG (oops, there goes some of the detail as he saves in a compressed format) and uploads it to his online gallery (one designed specifically for photographers so it doesn't compress images). To really show off, he also uploads the images to Facebook and Instagram (which do compress images).

From there, the photos are viewed by people who mostly don't have 4K monitors, and who mostly just view the images in their browsers (which default to a pixel per inch far below what a 61MP sensor produces). Ed's enthusiast friends will zoom in to view the images at 100%, and some may even download the originals to really see how they look. Most people, though, will just look at the images however they are displayed by default, and take Ed's word for it that his new camera is “sharper” than his old camera.

Don't get me wrong: I fully support Ed's desire to buy the latest camera. In the case of the Sony A7R Mk3, there are a lot of other improvements to applaud beyond the megapixel count of the sensor. I'm saying the expectation of such a sensor far exceeds the reality for most people and most display applications.

Angie is a commercial photographer who's been using a Hasselblad 50MP medium format camera for years. She's needed the high resolution because her photos are often used for large displays, such as window banners and even billboards. Those display methods take full advantage of (and may even require) a high pixel count. She reads up on the specs of the A7R Mk3, and the fact that there is a wider selection of lenses available, and trades in her Hasselblad gear on a Sony kit.

Doug is a fine art and landscape photographer who produces exquisitely detailed large prints for sale in galleries and through his website. He tends to produce prints ranging from 30 by 40 inches and larger. He's been happy with the output from his Sony A7RMk3, but he sees he can produce prints with even more detail (or larger prints with the same detail) with the A7RMkIV.

Allie is a nature photographer who uses the Sony A9 for it's ruggedness and auto focus capabilities. She sees many of her preferred features are now in the A7RMkIV, with higher resolution to boot. To her it's a done deal. (I threw this last one in because not everyone will buy the camera simply because of the sensor.)

There are people who can expect an improvement in the images they produce for the way they are displayed. Most people already using full frame cameras, however, won't realize any significant improvement in image quality if they bought the Sony A7RMkIV. Displaying online images with most monitors simply doesn't allow for seeing any increase in resolution. I've talked with many “enthusiasts” who don't even realize this.

This is one reason why I'm in no hurry to switch from the Olympus micro four thirds system I use. Yes, on my monitor, at 100% view in my editing software I would see a notable difference between the images taken with my camera and those taken with any full frame camera, much less the 61MP of the A7RMkIV. However I know most other people wouldn't see any difference when they view the images on the various online platforms (two galleries, Facebook and Instagram) that I use.

I'd say if you want to buy the Sony A7MkIV, do so because of the improvement in auto focus, ergonomics, weather sealing and other small features compared to the A7RMk3. Consider the 61MP sensor a bonus.

Are You Using the "Wrong Camera"?

Sure, I'm using the “wrong gear”. It's not “Full Frame”. Not only that, my main work involves concerts and performances, low light photography where “FF” is seen as the standard due to the lower noise levels it offers at a given ISO. Some music togs get by with lowly APS-C rigs, which in some cases are not too bad compared to FF kits. Yet, alas, I use Micro Four Thirds gear (m4/3), with a pitiful sensor only one fourth the surface area of FF, and known to have “horrible noise” at anything above ISO 400.

Well, that's what the CW from a lot of “experts” would have us believe.

Of course, there's another group of “experts” which declare that the gear matters far less than the skill of the photographer, if at all. While this group has a point, I think they are erring too far in the opposite direction from the technocentric views of some of the FF people.

Personally, I think both group forget that using a given set of gear involves a lot of personal, subjective choices involving factors other than image quality. I know people who rarely use their high IQ FF camera gear because it's a chore for them to use (size and weight is usually the reason). I love using my m4/3 gear, because if fits well in my hands, I like the feature set, and enjoy the results. My reasons are all about ME, and that's how it should be.

As I see it, too many people with cameras are trying to live up to expectations laid on them by “them”. “Them” being a sort of self-sustaining consensus of what is the “best camera type” to use, period. Not the best camera type for a given situation. Not the best camera type for a given person. Just, “The Best”.

Using anything is else simply wrong. To prove this, “they” cite “what pros demand” or some other presumably irrefutable evidence that the camera they feel is “The Best” really is best. The irony of this is, pros demand what is the best camera for a given situation, and for them personally. Their livelihood depends on satisfying clients. However, the further irony is that the best, most successful pros got their not because of their gear, but because of their personal style, and to no small degree, their degree of hustle to gain clients.

The result is there are pros using all sorts of “wrong” gear. Photojournalists using smartphones. Fashion photographers using m4/3. And, if you think about it, street photographers toting large FF kits is, in essence, doing it wrong. Most of the time, street photographers want to keep a low profile, which is why Leica rangefinders were so popular during the “film era”. Essentially, the “wrong gear” can go both ways.

So, back to me and my “wrong gear”. The small sensor (in comparison to FF) in my Olympus EM1s is only 16MP. It does indeed produce more noise at higher ISO than FF cameras. If I “pixel peep” (view images at 100% or greater) I can see there is not only more noise, but less detail than if I were to make the same image with most FF cameras. Do I care about the “lesser image quality” my camera gear produces? Sort of.

I care in that it's taken me a few years to develop a post processing workflow to minimize noise while preserving detail. I do this so well that people regularly ask how I get such low noise levels at ISO 3200 and higher with a camera that supposedly provides “unacceptable” results above ISO 3200. I care because I love using my Olympus m4/3 gear so much that if I could find a FF system that offered the overall size, weight and features that my current gear does, I'd switch. Even though FF mirrorless camera bodies from Sony are about the same size as my EM1, the lenses I would use are considerably larger and heavier. To get comparable focal length coverage of my current kit would involve over twice the total weight and a bag about twice the size of my current main bag.

If I did make the switch it wouldn't be to make sure my photos looked like all the other photographers who use FF systems. I like the way the images I produce with my cameras. So do those who buy and use my photos. Compared to what most FF cameras produce in the hands of other photographers, my images are grainier and have less dynamic range. I'm fine with that because they look a bit more like the Kodachrome film I adored when I first got started in 35mm photography.

See, I'm using the “wrong gear”, but getting the right results for me. When I first got into digital photography, it was using a simple Kodak z712is, which while limited in features, resolution, ISO levels and dynamic range, produced gorgeous colors. That mattered a lot to me. I want final images that please me, and if others are pleased by them that's a plus.

As for paying clients: as I pointed out above, paying clients are attracted to the “look” a photographer offers, rarely considering the type of gear they use to get that look. It ends up being more about how the photographer works with light, posing, how his personal vision of what he's shooting translates into the final image.

Gear is the “best gear” if it facilitates fulfilling that vision effectively and hopefully, in as efficient and enjoyable a manner as possible. (Don't underestimate the “enjoyable” aspect. Enjoyment in using gear contributes to the creative flow.) “Wrong gear” is any gear that hinders photographers' ability to capture and produce images which fulfill their vision.

Right now, my gear does that. I am constantly reassessing things, though, yet always end up deciding to stick with my system of choice. For now, it's the right gear for me, though it could very well be the wrong gear for others. Frankly, I don't recommend my gear to anyone else seeking to do concert photography unless they really want to save size and weight. That's because most people want to duplicate the look they see top music photographers who do use FF produce. Also, I doubt many of them would want to spend the time developing the PP flow I use.

Bottom line: the “wrong gear” is only wrong if you're using it for the wrong reason, which comes from letting someone else decide how you should pursue photography.

Are Your Photos Taken or Made?

                                    Behind the Gare Saint-Lazare, by Henri Cartier-Bresson.

“Photos are not taken, they are made...”

This statement is mostly attributed to Ansel Adams, though I think he simply was the first really famous photographer to say it. Ansel went on to elaborate: his approach to photography was to carefully plan and execute the way in which the images he captured would ultimately express his impression of the scene. Therein lies the controversy of this statement.

There are those who feel that photography should be as objective a representation of reality as possible. They feel that photos are indeed taken, not made, and that the skill of the photographer comes in using his tools and experience to capture the moment as accurately as possible, with as little work being done after capture as possible. Anything more than minimal processing needed to ensure a technically suitable final image is considered altering reality. And photography, unlike painting, is intended to represent raw reality as much as possible.

So, which is best? Is it to put a lot of work into making a photograph that represents the photographer's impression of the scene? Or is it to put effort into presenting a scene as realistically as possible? It would seem these creative ideologies are in opposition. They are actually just two sides of the same coin, and that coin is planning.

The photo at the top of this page is “Behind the Gare Saint-Lazare”, one of Henri Cartier-Bresson's most famous images. It is the essence of his “decisive moment” philosophy of photography, where the most important aspect of an image is that instant in time which tells a story like no other. I don't want to go into too much analysis of this amazing image (things such as the leaping figure on the poster in back which many people fail to notice). I want to point out that as spontaneous as this photo appears, HCB put a lot of planning into it. (some even argue that he staged it, repeatedly asking the man to make his leap until HCB captured the decisive moment.)

Henri Cartier-Bresson based much of his ability to get the decisive moment on careful planning. He would pick locations carefully, sometimes scouting in advance of the time of day when the lighting would be best for the photo he wanted to capture. He would watch what was happening, seeing how human activity might ebb and flow over the course of time. Then he would pick the right location, angle, time of day and activity he wanted to capture, then wait for the decisive moment. (And yes, luck did play a part in his success at times.)

I point this out because I've notice that many of the “photos must reflect reality” folks tend to cite HCB as an inspiration for that, yet think he just walked around with his camera hoping that great photos would materialize in front of him. He seldom did that. Great street photographers seldom leave any more to chance than they have to.

They observe. They explore. They watch for patterns in both the static elements and in human behavior. They wait patiently. They plan ahead so that they are anticipating rather than reacting.

Question: How often do you just grab your camera and head out hoping to encounter suitable subjects, and depend as much on luck as on skill to capture good images? Not that there is anything wrong with a “photo walk”. It's just that it's not always the best way to get the best images at times. Some photographers will even scout certain locations without a camera, just observing things and seeing how the light changes during the course of time and how people move through the scene. Then they come back at the right time of day to capture the images they are seeking. (That's where luck starts to come into play.)

Try it. Try just taking a walk, without camera, through a park or section of town, taking the time to see how the light is, studying the best locations to shoot from and the most interesting angles. Then come back when the light is going to combine with the subject to get the best results. Above all, be patient. You might even have to come back repeatedly before you get “The Shot”. The Decisive Moment image that you can take great pride in.

Sure, this doesn't always work with certain subjects and situations. But I wager that if you do this more often, you'll find yourself spending less time editing out photos you just don't like, and more time making photos you really like display worthy.

Improving on Ansel Adams?

Ansel Adams's iconic "Moonrise, Hernandez New Mexico". No photo is perfect, but this image is a full a realization of Adams's vision for the scene as he could achieve. Yet some people think they can "improve" on this image.

Recently a regular on a popular photography website started a thread in which he attempted to “improve” Ansel Adams's iconic “Moonrise, Hernandez New Mexico”. He explained why he felt his version was better. All he did, really was crop with a narrower aspect ratio and cut out a portion of the sky. The result was a photo that in his mind was obviously better, inasmuch as it drew more attention to the town in the foreground and left the moon hanging in a smaller expanse of sky.

It also proved he had no real idea why the photo is considered one of the great masterpieces of 20^th Century photography.

Without going into too much detail, suffice it to say that the areas of “negative space” that cause the town itself to seem less of the subject, as well as isolating the moon itself, is a major reason the photo is considered a masterful work. (Adams actually tried different crops before settling on the final one we normally see.) Adams broke or stretched a number of accepted conventions of composition, which is why the photo stands out.

A short time later, on the same forum, someone else started a thread asking people if they had drawn any inspiration from Adams and other “old masters” of photography. For me, at least, it was no surprise to see a number of people sniff at the idea that they should take inspiration from Adams and others. That's fine, to a point: we all find some photographers and photographs to be inspirational, and others to be in styles we simply don't relate to.

What struck me is the reason some gave for their dismissing the importance of Adams and other masters of photography. They implied-or said outright-that they think Adams and others are overrated. That's an incredibly bold statement, especially coming from some people whose best work amounts to technically precise photos of their cats or gardens.

Lest people think I'm being some sort of photography snob, let me say a couple of things. First, I have various levels of skill and experience in a variety of creative media. In addition to photography, I'm also a musician (I play multiple instruments and attended Berklee College of Music); a writer and also have enough “connections” among painters and sculptures to understand the perspective on life being that sort of visual artist entails. Among these various disciplines, photography is the one that most invites “elitist artistes”: people who think they represent a much higher level of ability than they actually have, not only in producing their own work, but in critiquing the work of others.

I believe the reason for this is how “easy” it can be to get certain results, especially with today's digital imaging devices (not just dedicated cameras, but smartphones as well. The days of having to thoroughly understand exposure, focus, color, light/shadow and other technical aspects of photography are long gone. Technology allows people to produce images that are technically outstanding (at least in their own view). The ongoing problem with this is the conflation of technical quality with what actually makes for a truly attention grabbing or evocative image.

The forum in question is just one of dozens on a website devoted to digital photography gear, not the photographs themselves. That's the thing about photography, it's so gear driven that a given model of camera can, in a technical sense, provide “better” images than a different model. People can be impressed by the technical quality of otherwise mundane photos.

I see this all the time on various websites. Someone posts what they think is a really good portrait. Others immediately chime in about how sharp it is, how great the exposure is, etc. Meanwhile, I (and others) are noticing that the lighting is less than flattering. The pose is a bit awkward. The framing of the photos and placement of the subject are poor.

Being able to recognize these aesthetic/compositional flaws takes experience, and ideally a bit of training. It's a process of constantly learning and improving which is independent of, yet interwoven with, technical skills and the capability of gear. What I see is that many people pick up a decent camera, wanting to get “pro level results” the marketing folks promise, and settle at seeing sharper, better exposed images with “creamy bokeh” as a sign that they have reached a certain pinnacle as photographers.

At that point, it doesn't take much to nudge certain personality types into the realm of “The Elitist Artist”. These are people who have decided that since they really like their photos, and often have friends or relatives who think they are really good photographers, that they have earned a level of respect usually reserved for people who have actually garnered such accolades from skilled photographers and others who have the right experience in determining how “good” a photo is.

The idea of “good” photos takes a sometimes bizarre turn. People will lug out the old “I consider it art, so it is” argument commonly used to excuse a lack of genuine proficiency in producing images (whether photographic or other) that aren't nearly as “good” as the artiste thinks. That's because they use their own definition of “good”, rather than recognizing there is a consensus among skilled photographers, editors, collectors, critics and museum curators as to what sort of photo is worthy of putting in a magazine or on a gallery wall, and what isn't.

Often, what the experts note as making a photo stand out from the crowd can be subtle aspects that most people don't recognize or appreciate. It's not that the experts inherently smarter or better at analyzing photos. It's often just a matter of training and especially, experience. I recognize this in my own evolution as a photographer.

For many years, I didn't “get” the photos of Gary Winogrand, and certain other photographers whose work encompassed points of view and subtles I simply didn't recognize. Then I found a quote by Gary Winogrand:

“Photography is not about the thing photographed. It's about how that thing looks photographed”.

Yeah, took me a while to wrap my head around that. Then I examined my own thinking about what the purpose of a photograph, at least in how Winogrand was thinking, actually is. I had spent years in photography hoping to capture images that were as realistic as possible, or at least presented my perspective on a given subject. The assumption behind this thinking is that a photograph actually presents the world in a realistic way. In truth, it doesn't.

Fundamentally a photograph captures a finite moment in time, with a number of variables subjectively controlled by the photographer, of a world that is full of ongoing action and an infinite number of perspectives of any given subject or event. Sure, advances in 3D imaging allow for impressive images that can be rotated and viewed from a potentially infinite number of angles, but it's still a select moment in time, chosen subjectively by the photographer.

What I'm getting at is that for me, I “didn't get” a lot of photographs and photographers' styles because I was comparing the images to my intention if I were to photograph the same subject. That handicaps the ability to examine and appreciate a given photograph as a photograph, because the concentration is on whether or not the image presents the subject in a way we can appreciate or even understand.

That's why I think that the gentleman who tried to improve “Moonrise, Hernandez New Mexico” was missing the point of the photo to begin with. He was wanted to present the scene in a way he found matched his own aesthetic, where as Ansel Adams wanted to present the scene not only as he perceived it, but also how he felt is would look best as a photograph. Personally, coming to recognize this aspect of photographic composition (and to a certain extent, technique) not only led me to a greater appreciation of a number of photographs and photographers I didn't pay much attention to before, but it also has fueled some progress in my own photography.

The second thing I want to make sure is understood is that I do believe everyone is entitled to an opinion, and there will always be those who disagree with a given point of view. The thing is that not everyone's opinion carries equal weight when critiquing the artistic works of acknowledged masters. At times it's semantics: a person may say Adams is overrated when what he may actually mean is he doesn't find Adams's photos particularly appealing. Or he may simply not “get it”.

Still, there are those (as in the case of the forum threads I'm describing) that honestly think they have the critiquing skills to seriously say that Ansel Adams, and others, are overrated. When they say they “don't get it”, they are not admitting to their own limited understanding of what makes for great photographs. What they are saying is that they think those who “do get it” are somehow ill-informed or lack critiquing skills.

Sure, you'll find this in any creative medium. However, reaching such an attitude is, in my opinion, much easier in photography. A musician actually has to practice effectively for a certain amount of time to reach a skill level where others will actually be willing to listen to her play or sing. From there, a musician is expected to “pay dues” before gaining enough credibility to either question the ability of other musicians, or declare herself some sort of master who can offer authoritative criticism of other musicians.

Part of this is because even someone with no musical training or ability can recognize a bad musician. Playing a guitar like a hack, or singing off key, is recognizable by almost anyone. As I mentioned above, such is not the case with photography. Untrained or inexperienced people, accustom to the middling results they get with a smartphone with dirty lens or a cheap point and shoot, can be so impressed by the higher quality and smoother bokeh of a photos taken with even the cheapest interchangeable lens camera that they assume there was a great deal of skill involved. (Ironically, they also think the opposite: I frequently have people say that I must have a “really good camera” to get the results I do. I do , but others have similarly capable cameras and get much poorer results under the same circumstances.)

So, what am I getting at?

Several things. Don't let technical quality of photos fool others-or yourself-into thinking you're a better photographer than you really are. Be willing to look at and learn from photographs by those who are considered masters, or at least experts, even if you don't “get” the images right away. Don't go around talking (or posting online) with an attitude that surpasses your ability. Mostly, as I often say, just go out and enjoy taking photos of what you want, in the way you want. However, if you seriously want to improve your photography, think about what it is you want people viewing your photos to think and feel, beyond the ubiquitous “nice shot” praises. Avoid the pretentiousness of being an “Artiste” at all costs. Even Ansel Adams remained humble his entire life, and constantly cited other photographers that inspired him. No one is ever such a master that they can't keep learning and improving.